Once, I consider the moon.
Thoughts filtered through my mind,
and I discerned her mood.

Tired, I thought she must be.
Tired of being the only light in the night.
She must wish for another to act as bright.

There is no one to pass the torch to,
night by night, she must pull through,
shining until sunlight breaks anew.

Weary and lonely must her soul be,
this, I felt I knew to be true.
Then I thought a little deeper and . . .
with surprise, realized that I had no clue.

The moon does not make her own light,
she relies on the Sun and reflects only His light.
She isn't looking on the dark of night,
struggling to fight the good fight.

All she does is gaze on her love . . .
and reflect all that He is on her face above
Now, I am convinced that she doesn't look on us below.
She just looks at the sun and is caught up in His glow.

The moon is a merry lover....